


Water Hold Me Down

by NeoVenus22



Series: Troubled Water [1]
Category: Power Rangers S.P.D., Veronica Mars (TV)
Genre: Crossover, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-26
Updated: 2009-12-26
Packaged: 2017-10-05 07:07:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/39087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeoVenus22/pseuds/NeoVenus22
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Duncan is out for a drive when he comes across an interesting character who might just change his life forever...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Water Hold Me Down

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers: Veronica Mars season one.  
> Bridge's backstory is my own creation, and holds no relevance to any other backstories.

The gas station, a 24-hour Shell station on a little-traveled stretch of highway, was almost exactly halfway between Neptune and Newtech, Duncan learned much later. But at the time, he could only think of how Lilly always complained that fluorescent lighting washed her out.

He hadn't meant to end up there. The first part of the trial had been that morning and afternoon. Duncan wasn't supposed to go on the stand until Friday, but he was supposed to sit there next to his mother and father, the grieving family of a murdered girl. He stared at his shoelaces for hours, letting the opening statements wash over him, refusing to look up for fear that he'd see Veronica or Logan or worse yet, Veronica and Logan.

When he'd gotten home, there had been three messages from Meg on his machine, saying that she'd seen the trial on Court TV, and that he wasn't looking too well, and did he feel okay, and did he want to talk, and he should call her back. Duncan erased the messages with one touch of a button, and unplugged the machine. The reporters had hovered at the front gates of the estate for hours before they realized that no one was going to come out and give them sound bites or blurry photos. Duncan changed out of his stiff suit and into a black t-shirt and wrinkled cargo pants. It occurred to him that Lilly and Celeste had at least one thing in common, the stark refusal to let him out of the house looking like that. He swallowed one of his pills to make the thought go away.

It was dusk when Duncan got into his car, and there was a navy blue sedan at the bottom of the street. He gunned the engine and went in the opposite direction, towards the highway.

Taking his pills on an empty stomach had been a bad idea, and now his stomach was rumbling, and his vision was getting blurry. The effect of the headlights reflecting off the yellow divider lines was starting to remind him of the yellow on his soccer uniform. He hadn't played soccer since Lilly died. (In the beginning, he used grieving as his excuse, and when that became unacceptable, he had a doctor's note and a psychiatrist's note, and a scroll of prescriptions as evidence.) There were too many unpleasant memories associated with that uniform and its yellow striping. He'd scored three goals during practice that day, and was pumped and sweaty and singing along to the radio. He'd been happy. He couldn't remember anything past that. Even though he'd spent the morning in a trial against Aaron Echolls for Lilly's murder, Duncan knew that he would never be convinced until he could remember.

When the car had veered slightly into the oncoming lane, Duncan had decided to ignore that little stab that encouraged him to stay there until a semi came, and pulled off at the next exit. Death wasn't an option —not today— so some convenience food would have to do. He passed through economy bags of Fritos and cheddar popcorn, tubes of Pringles and boxes of raisins, until his empty gut sent a message to his brain. Jerky. He wanted something leathery, like Logan, and spicy, like Veronica, and fast, like Lilly.

Which was where he was now, in the third aisle, reaching for the package of teriyaki jerky and brushing against fingers just before his own closed around the snack. Duncan was shaken from his blank state, realizing that there was another person in the aisle. "I'm sorry," the guy said, with a smile that was actually apologetic. "Did you want this?" He withdrew his hand just as Duncan did.

Duncan felt a little warm crashing down to earth. It was the last package of jerky, he figured out, unless you counted the bland original flavor. "No, it's okay. You were here first." He offered the other man a wan smile, unable to remember who had really been there first.

"You sure. I don't mind, really, I could find a snack cake or something..."

"It's cool, really," Duncan said with a laugh that wavered en route from his throat. They stood staring at each other awkwardly for a moment, then with a slight laugh of his own, the other man plucked the jerky from the hook. Duncan grabbed a package of the bland kind and went to the register. Original jerky. A distinctly comical sort of name. He could already hear his sister making jokes.

Maybe she'd visit, keep him company for the drive home. But probably not. He didn't get to choose when she visited. He'd never gotten to choose anything when Lilly was around.

There were four neat gas pumps, and streetlights dotting the road, their light not quite reaching the rest of the lot. He hadn't realized it was so late. There was no one there. To his left was a series of diagonal parking spaces designated by faded paint lines. There were three cars in the parking lot: his, the guy's, and the cashier's. Duncan started towards his car, unwrapping his first stick of jerky.

"You want some?" The guy must have had ninja training, the way he popped up. Duncan hadn't even seen him in the line. But maybe it was less of a testament to the guy's stealth than it was to Duncan's own complete detachment from everything around him. The guy was non-threatening though, offering the package with a cheerful smile.

For reasons Duncan couldn't understand, he wanted that jerky more than he'd ever wanted anything in his whole life.

"Sure, why not," he said, barely smiling.

The guy was wearing leather gloves, despite it being a warm night, and he had to strip one off in order to tear open the package. He lifted his head sharply, staring at Duncan for half a second with an abyss of sadness swimming in his dark eyes. Then he handed Duncan a strip of jerky, put his glove back on, and it was gone. "I'm Bridge," he said, smiling once more.

"Duncan," said Duncan without thinking, because a reporter would have accosted him by this point, not laughed hopelessly under artificial lighting and brushed hands while competing for jerky. A reporter wouldn't have introduced himself either, for that matter. But Duncan wasn't thinking about any of that, trapped in Bridge's stare.

"Bridge is a weird name," he observed. He didn't regret saying it, even, although it was an embarrassing choice of phrase. As if he was suggesting that Bridge himself was weird by proxy.

"It's a noun," Bridge agreed. He cocked his head slightly, gazing up at nothing and contemplating. "Well, I mean, it's a noun anyway. Person, place, or thing. And," he jerked his thumb at his chest, "person. But yeah. It's a weird name." His face split in a great grin. "My sister's name is Sailor."

Duncan, despite himself, started laughing. "Your parents are ridiculous."

Bridge only nodded his head in beat to the chorus of Duncan's laughter. When it subsided, Duncan was unable to stop himself from saying, as though confessing, "My sister's name is Lilly." The stab of pain that usually accompanied the utterance of Lilly's name was peculiarly not there.

"Lilly and Duncan, that's not so bad," Bridge said.

"No." But once that was over, they couldn't think of anything to say. Bridge indicated the curb with his packet of remaining jerky, and Duncan nodded, and they sat down.

"Are you from around here?" Duncan asked, biting off the tip of his own snack.

"No. I'm from Newtech."

Duncan had vague recollections of seeing a dot on a map. "Why are you so far from home tonight?"

Bridge shrugged. The dim light made his green t-shirt look darker aqua. "I wanted to get away for a little while."

It was a feeling that Duncan understood a little too well, and in that moment, he found himself studying Bridge's pensive profile. The unruly hair, the flexibility of the cheeks and jaw that encompassed both a brilliant smile and his current pensive face.

"Everything okay?" he asked, genuinely curious and concerned.

"I guess. I don't know." He glanced at Duncan. "Have you ever felt like the least useful person you know?"

Duncan thought of Veronica, plugging away to solve the mystery of Lilly's murder, even though the culprit had already been convicted. (Doing this, of course, among a million other tasks.) He thought of Logan, who never knew what he was doing, but didn't seem to care, and somehow managed to always be doing whatever it turned out to be with more anger than it seemed possible to squeeze into one man. And lastly, he thought of himself, floating through his days. He wasn't angry, he wasn't ambitious, he just was.

"All the time," he said. Bridge's lips curled upwards in understanding, and the fuzzy sort of feeling in Duncan's gut was one that he hadn't felt since Lilly was still alive. "Where do you go to school?" he asked.

"The SPD Academy," said Bridge. Duncan's face must have been as blank as his mind, because Bridge helpfully explained, "It's a training facility. I'm a cop."

In Duncan's life, he'd known two different sheriffs. There was Sheriff Mars, who had never once done or said anything bad to Duncan, as though he knew that any trouble Veronica got into was Lilly's fault and not his. There was Sheriff Lamb, who didn't even blink about Abel Koontz's arrest, and who didn't even look at Duncan because he was the least important Kane. He had seen a slew of deputies, nameless and faceless and usually arresting people he knew. Except for the one that Veronica had dated, who was not nameless or faceless, but still had arrested people he knew.

"You're making a face," Bridge said. "Not a big fan of cops?"

"You're the first cop-cop I've met."

Bridge laughed a little. "What's a cop-cop? Different from a regular cop? Do we say everything twice?" He flipped his gloved hands about in a simulation arrest. Duncan pretended like the gestures didn't look familiar. "'You are under arrest... you are under arrest. You have the right to remain silent, you have the right to remain silent...'"

Duncan smiled despite himself, even went so far as to laugh a little. "No, I mean... you're nice. You just seem like... well, like what you expect cops to be like. Listening, and understanding, and trustworthy." The second the words left his mouth, he knew that he trusted Bridge. He didn't understand it, but there were so many things in the world that defied explanation. His sister's death for one.

"Oh. Well, thanks." Bridge's cheeks colored, and Duncan felt a fresh round of embarrassment with it; the reaction only solidifying the idea that Duncan was behaving stupidly. "I mean," Bridge continued, "my teammates, they sort of think the opposite from you. Because I am the way I am, I don't think they really trust me at all. I think they're waiting for me to screw up."

"The way you are?" asked Duncan. "How's that?"

"Loopy." Bridge gestured uselessly. "I talk too fast. I don't always make sense."

Duncan could see how this might be a problem when it came to socializing, but still, "You don't talk too fast for me."

When Bridge smiled, there was no explanation for the rush of warmth Duncan felt. This was undoubtedly the happiest he could remember being in... well, awhile, and all he was doing was sitting there, eating packaged meat with a stranger.

They remained there for another hour still, talking about Duncan's high school career, about Bridge's friends. Duncan carefully avoided anything too revealing about the Kanes and the case, but it was really a futile hope. It was a miracle that Bridge didn't know about it, and it was stupid to think that he'd never find out.

What was most interesting was that Duncan was already anticipating seeing Bridge again, future encounters where he'd have to attempt to hide the truth.

The jerky was long finished, and the cashier who had sold it to them was now getting off his shift. "Guys, am I gonna have to call the cops?" he called over.

Duncan giggled, as Bridge responded with almost a straight face, "No, we're cool." The cashier's reaction was obscured in shadow, but he seemed to be satisfied, getting into his car and gunning his engine. Bridge was laughing as well, now, and punched Duncan's arm. "Stop."

"You can arrest yourself for loitering," teased Duncan.

"If I go in, I'm taking you with me." Bridge grinned, but Duncan's memory nagged him about the times he actually had been taken in by the cops. He was counting the occasions —as a potential witness with his father as the suspect, as a potential witness with Abel Koontz as the suspect, and most recently as a potential witness with Aaron Echolls as the suspect— when he found a pair of lips on his own.

Duncan kissed Bridge back without much thought, surprised but not displeased, and actually quite satisfied. Still, when they parted, Bridge's eyes glittered with a certain sadness. "I'm sorry," he said, in such a way that Duncan wasn't sure it was about the kiss.

"It's fine," said Duncan, because it really was fine. It was more than fine. It was in fact maybe the most normal thing to happen to him in about a year. It was not his first kiss with a guy, there were a few instances with an extremely intoxicated Logan that would forever burn away in a far corner of his memory, but it was his first kiss in a very long time that came without complications.

"I'd like to..." said Bridge, staring off at the highway, "that is, if you want... maybe, I don't know, maybe I went too far, maybe you're not... I mean, I know I'm not... well, maybe I guess I am, I don't know, I just did that... but, um, if you are, or if you're not, or... I'd like to see you again. Maybe. If you want to."

"I want to," said Duncan. "I really, really want to." He'd had his suspicions about his own sexuality, particularly after Logan, but everything else was always so screwed up that whether or not he was gay or bi or what-the-hell-ever was always the least important problem in his life. He was just struggling, stumbling towards happiness, and this was the first time he could actually see it on the horizon.

Bridge's smile was so bright it put the crappy gas station lighting to shame, and Duncan was a little proud that he'd done that. "Great," said Bridge excitedly. "That's really great."

They made arrangements to meet again, and finally crossed over to their cars, both out dangerously past curfew. Bridge had a Commander to fear, and Duncan had Celeste Kane, and while both boys would have preferred to stay, they far preferred to meet again, which they couldn't do if their respective guardians killed them for being out late. They stood close together, between their two cars, their proximity almost awkward. But the awkwardness faded away when they kissed seriously this time, throwing caution to the wind and embracing in the parking lot. Duncan's life often felt like a movie, like he was sitting just outside of it, and watching the drama unfold. This was yet another movie moment, but this time he actually liked what he saw. And he was eager to see the rest.


End file.
